


As Certain Dark Things are to be Loved

by Dame_de_la_Mort



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Child Abuse, Draco Malfoy Speaks French, EVENTUAL fem!Drarry, F/F, Female Draco Malfoy, Female Harry Potter, Hufflepuff Ron Weasley, I MUST FIX THE LAW SYSTEM IT MAKES ME MAD, I basically throw canon for a loop, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Magical Theory, Multi, Not happy at first, Other, Parseltongue, Ravenclaw Hermione Granger, Slytherin Harry Potter, Smart Harry Potter, There will be other ships later but im not 100 sure on them yet lol, canon? whos she?, eventually, i like my femme ships okay, ill get there, warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-04-12 04:41:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19124800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dame_de_la_Mort/pseuds/Dame_de_la_Mort
Summary: Hogwarts is the home - the escape - Harley never thought she would find, but escape isn’t all she’ll find there.She’ll find friends she loves, and power she’d never dreamed of. Magic that takes her breath away, and danger that could quite literally do the same - permanently. Love that she’d never had, and shadows she wished she’d never seen. Snakes, staircases, spellbooks…And the hope, she thought she had lost forever.Yes, Hogwarts is the home Harley never dared to wish for.





	1. Chapter One; All Stories Have a Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> So, huge thanks to my friend Pip for her help writing the blurb for this story and with some editing! As always, credit to JKR for the initial ideas, I'm making no profit off of this! If you think i need anything clarified in the tags, message me! Hope you enjoy! (Yes, the title is a reference to the Pablo Neruda sonnet... It'll make more sense later i sweAR)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just me editing, sorry darlin's

Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. The Dursley’s had a daughter called Delia, and in their opinion, there was no better girl out there. They had everything they could ever want. They were the last people you would expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious.

 

Except, they _were_. Involved in something strange, that is.

 

Her name was Harley Potter, and on one cold winter’s night in 1980, she was left on the Dursley’s doorstep.

 

Harley Potter would live with the Dursley’s for the next 12 years. Her life there, if you could even call it a life at this point, was… Well, you’ll see.

 

“Get up! Up! Now!”

 

Harley sat up with a start, ten years old (turning eleven soon, she was surprised she had even made it to eleven, if she was honest,) and already wishing for a more permanent sleep.

 

_(When she dreamed, she dreamed of quiet. Snow was falling from the sky but she was not cold. Looking up, she met a pair of grey eyes. It was the idea of hope, Harley didn’t have anything else.)_

 

She ached. The bruises on her thighs were the current worst offenders, though the small round burns all over her arms were a close contender in the vicious battle for the top spot.

 

_(This occurrence was not as strange as Harley wished it to be.)_

 

“Up! I said up already!” Aunt Petunia screeched, rapping her knuckles on the door of Harley’s cupboard, “I need Dee-Dee’s breakfast cooked! Her birthday must be _perfect!”_

 

So, Harley moved. What else was she to do? It was better to just _start_ moving, she acclimated to the ache walking gave pretty quickly. She was used to it.

 

As she moved, slowly changing her clothes, she attempted to recall her dream from the night before, it was... soft, somehow. 

 

 _(Not the night before itself, that was_ _burned_ _into her memory already. Vernon had made sure of that.)_

 

She drew a blank. She had a funny feeling she’d had the same dream before, on the rare nights when Epiales didn’t invade the palace Hypnos made for her.

 

Her aunt was back outside the door.

 

“Are you up yet?” she demanded, voice raised.

 

“Nearly,” Harley yelped, Aunt Petunia was getting frustrated now, “I’m just coming now!”

 

“Better get a move on, girl, the bacon’s already in the pan. I need you to watch it. I told you, Dee-Dee’s birthday has to be perfect!”

 

Harley rolled her eyes, moving quicker now.

 

“Did you say something?” her aunt snapped at her through the door. “You know what happens when you're disrespectful…”

 

Harley stiffened, adrenaline rushed through her veins. “Coming now, Aunt Petunia!”

 

She quickly grabbed the rest of her stuff, sweeping a spider off one of her socks. Harley was very used to spiders, there were lots of them in her cupboard. In fact, she kind of liked the spiders in her cupboard, it meant Delia stayed out.

 

_(Delia screamed every time she saw a spider, one day when Harley was about seven, a huge hairy one had appeared on her bed. It was Harley’s fault, of course. She must have let one of those horrible creatures out on purpose! Just to frighten Dee-Dee! That was the first time Vernon had used his belt.)_

 

Completely dressed, she entered the kitchen, speeding over to the oven to make sure the bacon hadn’t overcooked. _(She knew precisely how long everyone needed their bacon in the pan, she timed it perfectly in her head. She knew what happened if it was burnt.)_

 

It was still fine. Harley breathed a sigh of relief.

 

The kitchen table was almost buried beneath Delia’s presents. It looked as if Delia had gotten the new dolls' house she had wanted, not to mention a new pastel pink bike she had ‘fallen in love with, please can you buy it for me, Daddy please!’ and some rather obviously hand-wrapped packages of clothing.

 

Harley looked at the bike, and panicked a little. Delia was fast enough on her own, she’d be even more difficult to outrun now she had a bike. Delia like sports well enough, but her favourite by far was Harley Hunting. It involved Delia and her groupies chasing Harley for as long as they could, though they didn’t often catch her.

 

Harley was fast, and quiet. _(She had to be, she wouldn’t eat a lot of the time if she wasn’t.)_

 

She knew all the best places to hide. (That she had learnt by trial and error. _Lots_ of trial and error. Delia _quite_ liked Harley Hunting.) And she was small, perhaps this was a byproduct of living in a cupboard, and only eating one full meal a day -dinner - plus whatever else she could steal without the Dursley’s noticing. All of which made her very good at avoiding the Harley Hunters until they got bored with their Harley Hunting.

 

Harley had always been small, but she looked exceptionally small as she only wore hand-me-downs. Delia’s hand-me-downs to be precise, and Delia was just like her mother. Tall and slim. Which made her clothes, even the old ones, hang off of Harley like shackles.

 

 _(It may have been Vernon that hurt her physically, but Aunt Petunia was the one who refused to feed her. Or, clothe her in things that fit. Or, get her hair cut. Or, live anywhere but the_ cupboard _under the stairs. It was a place for the broken and forgotten of the Dursley household. Harley certainly fit into those categories.)_

 

At least her glasses fit her, the school paid for them though, so she wasn't sure that counted.

 

The Dursley’s would do nothing for her out of the ‘kindness’ of their hearts. _(There were nights where Harley stared into nothing, and wondered how people could ever look at the Dursley’s and think they were normal. That they could look at how Vernon gripped her shoulder and call it ‘family.’)_

 

There were only two things Harley liked about herself, her eyes _(emerald green, a point of envy for Delia, her eyes were brown and she thought them rather plain,)_ and her scar. It was white against her skin, branching like lightning over almost half of her forehead.

 

She had asked Aunt Petunia where she had gotten it, all of once.

 

“In the car crash when your parents died,” she had said. “And don’t ask questions.”

 

 _Don’t ask questions_ \- that was the golden rule for a life with the Dursley’s.

 

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen just as Harley was turning the bacon.

 

“Do you ever brush your hair?” he barked, by way of morning greeting.

 

About once a week, Uncle Vernon would look over the top of his newspaper and insult Harley’s hair in some way. Harley herself would admit that her hair was a mess, tangled black curls that fell to about mid-back, completely untameable. She had tried to get a brush through them once. It broke. She hadn’t tried again, but made sure she always had hair-ties on her to get ‘the mop,’ (as she fondly called it,) out of the way.

 

Harley had moved on to frying eggs by the time Delia arrived in the kitchen. She was still in her pyjamas, and looked half-asleep, blond-brown hair hanging limply around her face.

 

She had no bags under her eyes, Harley knew she was the opposite. Her bags must have looked more like bruises at this point. Nightmares would do that to you.  


_(Vernon would do everything but bruise her face, she still needed to go to school after all. And they didn’t want anyone asking any_ questions _.)_

 

Harley put the plates of egg and bacon onto the table, a difficult task considering the mountain of gifts for Delia, but she made do. Harley went to pour a glass of orange juice and froze as Vernon’s breath skated over her neck, she flinched away. But Vernon had her wrist in an iron grip, she was shackled.

 

Delia’s eyes roamed over her mountain, before she froze.

 

“Thirty six.” As soon as Vernon heard the voice of his daughter, he released her.

 

“Pardon, Darling?” Vernon’s voice was sugary, it was a voice that featured prominently in her nightmares. “What was that?”

 

“Thirty six.” She repeated, a look of horror growing on her face, “That’s two less presents than last year.”

 

“Dee-Dee, love,” Aunt Petunia's voice rushed in to avoid the danger of a ‘Dee-Dee tantrum’, “You haven’t counted Aunt Marge’s present, see. It’s over here under the one from Mummy and Daddy.”

 

“Fine then, thirty seven, but-”

 

“And,” Aunt Petunia interjected quickly, “we were planning on buying you _two_ more while we were out today! How’s that, popkin? _Two_ more presents, is that alright?”

 

Delia stopped for a minute, cogs visibly turning in her head. “So, I’ll have thirty nine…”

 

Harley felt vaguely sick, couldn’t Delia see how good she had it? How could she just keep asking for more, when Harley was hiding in the shadows begging, _begging,_ for anything?

 

“That’s right sweetums!”

 

“We’ll get you _anything_ you want from the zoo, okay, baby?” Uncle Vernon, who had been silent during this exchange, chuckled.

 

It was at that moment that the phone rang. It was _the_ phone call, the one that made everything snowball.

 

There was no-one who could look after Harley, she would have to come to the zoo with the Dursleys.

 

And so, our story begins.


	2. Going to the zoo was a Bad Idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just a warning now, the ending to this chapter is tense and pretty horrible, but it will get worse before it gets better. Sorry about that. Again just an early update as I have exams this week, hopefully I'll have another chapter up Thursday of next week!

_ “ _ I suppose we could take her to the zoo,” said Aunt Petunia slowly, “... and leave her in the car…”

 

They were standing in the hall. She was standing right there, and they were talking about her like she wasn’t even there. It had been going on like this for ten minutes and counting, they couldn't decide what to do with her.

 

“We can’t leave her in the car! It’s new! I won’t have it Petunia!”

 

Delia suddenly began to cry, loudly. She wasn’t really crying, it had been years since she had cried properly, but she knew that if she screwed up her nose and wailed, Mummy and Daddy would come running to give her _ anything _ she wanted.

 

“I-I… d-don’t want… her… to-to come!” Delia wailed, sobbing loudly between words. “She ru-ruins everything!” 

 

Aunt Petunia flung her arms around her, “Oh Dee-Dee darling! Don’t cry! Mummy won’t let her destroy your special day!”

 

Delia gave Harley a huge grin through the gap in her mother’s arms, and Vernon loomed over her, standing sentinel between his wife and daughter and their adopted niece.  _ (As if they needed protection, Harley was the one that really needed that protection.) _

 

Just then, the doorbell rang - “Oh, Good Lord, they’re here!” said Aunt Petunia frantically - and a moment later, Delia’s best friend, Polly Polkiss (an unfortunate name,) walked in with her mother in tow. Polly was a gangly girl, she was the one who made sure rumours spread fast once Delia had made them up. Delia’s crocodile tears disappeared in an instant.

 

Half an hour later, Harley was sitting in the back of the car with Delia and Polly. On the way to the zoo for the first time in her life, she almost couldn't believe it. Maybe today was a lucky day. Her aunt and uncle hadn’t been able to think of anything else to do, they had to take her with them. Before they left, though, Uncle Vernon had pulled her aside, his iron grip on her arm almost making it go numb  _(_ _she was shackled and chained and contained)_.

 

“I’m warning you now,” he said, his ruddy face leaning in close to hers, “I’m warning you now, girl - anything strange happen, anything at all - and you’ll be staying in that cupboard for a month.” 

 

He paused, then leered, “And you’ll be looking after me.”

 

She lowered her eyes, “I’m not going to do anything, sir, I swear.”

 

She could tell he didn’t believe her. No one ever did. The problem was, strange things always seemed to happen around Harley, and no matter her vehement denial of any involvement, she always felt like she  _ had  _ had something to do with the occurrences.  _ (It was like magic. Huh. That might be something for her to think about later, maybe she could try doing something on purpose.) _

 

Once, Uncle Vernon had managed to get bruising all up her neck and she had one black eye. He was usually careful to not let any of the bruising show, but he had lost a big business deal and he was  _ furious.  _ She wasn’t going to be allowed to go to school the next day. She had spent all night tossing, wondering what would happen if she was forced to stay home. And come morning, all her bruises had gone.

 

One day a substitute teacher had said some, rather unsavoury things about Harley’s intelligence,  _ (the Dursleys had said she was not to get higher grades than Delia, that meant she was barely scraping a pass even though she knew all of the material,)  _ and somehow all his long blonde locks had turned a violent shade of magenta right before the classes’ eyes.

 

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force her into one of Delia’s horrible old dresses (it was  _ orange  _ and it had  _ cream frills _ ). The more she had tried to shove it on over her head, the larger it seemed to get, until it quite literally fell off around her. Aunt Petunia had decided  _ Harley  _ must have stretched it. She had to spend two days in her cupboard without food for that one.

 

But  _ today,  _ nothing was going to go wrong. It couldn’t. She had seen Vernon’s face as he spoke to her, she knew the punishment for ruining Dee-Dee dearest’s birthday-outing would be horrific.  _ (Even if something went wrong, it was  _ almost _ worth it to Harley this time. She was used to punishment, and she never really went anywhere but school, her cupboard and the living room of whoever they could shove her _ t o _ while they went out.) _

 

As Vernon drove he complained, he liked to complain about things: his job, Harley, the weather, Harley, the bank, Harley and the fake news were just a few of his favourite topics. She could hear Delia and Polly whispering about her, but she didn’t care. She was going to the zoo.

 

She was  _ going  _ to  _ the zoo. _

 

She had never been to the zoo before, if they didn’t have to the Dursleys took her nowhere, and most of the time they  _ didn’t  _ have to. She felt lucky they were legally obligated to send her to school.

 

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded beyond belief. Harley didn’t think she had ever seen so many people in one place before. 

 

It was the best morning she’d had in a long time. Perhaps, ever. She was very careful to walk a little apart from the Dursleys, so that Delia and Polly wouldn’t come after her. She was careful not to make trouble.  _ (She loved the tigers, they were beautiful and so regal! She was really looking forward to seeing the snakes, they were one of her favourite animals.) _

 

They ate at the zoo restaurant, and Delia  _ hated  _ her meal. So she bought another, and Harley was allowed to finish the first. She had gotten to eat twice already today, which was new.

 

Afterwards, she felt she should have known it was  _ far  _ too good to last. 

 

After lunch, they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark and a fantastic escape from the heat outside. It was the one of the exhibits Harley had been looking forward to all day. Delia and Polly just wanted to find the creepiest snakes. They didn’t appreciate their elegance, the shiny scales and soft lines. Harley wanted to draw them.

 

Delia quickly found the biggest snake and was banging on the glass - completely ignoring the signs - trying to get it to move. It was a huge creature, it could probably wrap around Vernon himself thrice over and still have room to move. It was, quite frankly, impressive, and very very asleep. 

 

Despite Delia’s rapping on the glass, and tapping with her nails, the snake did not budge, it just lazed under its heat lamp. 

 

“This is boring~” she whinged, sauntering off looking for a more reactive animal. She dragged Polly behind her, talons digging into her wrist.

 

Harley stood in front of the tank Delia had abandoned and admired the snake, she wouldn’t be surprised if the magnificent creature had died - just out of sheer boredom. Harley wouldn't blame it, with people like Delia rapping on the glass all day, just trying to get a reaction, who wouldn’t go out of their mind? It almost seemed worse than the cupboard in a way, at least she got to go to school.

 

The snake suddenly opened its eyes, it moved lazily until it’s head was about level with Harleys and then… 

 

_ It winked. _

 

Harley stared. What were you supposed to do when a  _ snake  _ just went ahead and  _ winked  _ at you? She looked around quickly to make sure no one was watching, this seemed like something the Dursleys would find  _ unusual.  _ She winked back.

 

The snake inclined its head towards Vernon and the bubblegum duo, and gave Harley a look that said - quite plainly to her - ‘ _ I get that all the time.’ _

 

“Yeah, I know,” she murmured through the glass, she wondered if the snake could even hear her. “It must be so annoying.”

 

The snake nodded, somehow still looking regal.

 

“Where do you come from?” Harley asked, wondering if it was strange to have a chat with a snake, she expected so. The snake’s tail lifted, pointing to a sign next to the glass that kept it in. Harley peered at it.

 

_ Boa Constrictor, Brazil. _

 

Harley’s brow furrowed, she didn’t know what Brazil was supposed to be like, she read a lot  _ (and I mean, a lot)  _ but travel books had never really been her thing. 

 

“Was it nice there?”

 

The snake indicated to the sign again, so Harley read on.  _ This specimen was bred in the zoo. “ _ Oh, I see. So, you’ve never been to Brazil before, hmm?” She asked conversationally.

 

As the snake shook its head, there was a screech from behind Harley that made both of them jump. “LOOK! DELIA! MR. DURSLEY! COME LOOK AT THE SNAKE! YOU WON’T  _ BELIEVE  _ WHAT IT’S DOING!” 

 

Delia came over, sauntering as fast as she could without making it look like she cared too much.

 

“Get out of my way!” She hissed, elbowing Harley in the ribs,  _ hard _ . With a pained wince - Delia had elbowed  _ right  _ in the middle of a fairly recent bruise - Harley fell to the ground. What came next was so fast no one saw how it happened - one moment, Delia and Polly were leaning close to the glass, noses creating condensation, the next, they had leapt back with shrieks of pure horror.

 

_ (No. Oh god, she was definitely going to get blamed for this somehow. No!) _

 

Harley sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor enclosure had just  _ vanished,  _ and the snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor - it was pandemonium, people were running through the exhibit screaming wildly.

 

As the snake slid swiftly past Harley’s spot on the cold, hard ground, she  _ swore  _ she heard a low hiss of, ‘ _ Thanks, Miss… Brazil, here I come.’ _

 

The keeper of the reptile house seemed to be in shock.

 

“I-I… the glass?” she kept muttering to herself, bewildered, “where did the glass go?”

 

It was the zoo director himself that made Aunt Petunia a cup of tea, once she had stopped hyperventilating. He apologised repeatedly, while Delia and Polly could only gape dumbly. 

 

_ (Harley was going to be in so much trouble for this.) _

 

As far as Harley had seen, the snake had only snapped playfully at the girl’s heels as it passed them by, but somehow, by the time they were back at the Dursleys' car, Delia was telling them how it had  _ “almost bitten her leg off!”  _ while Polly was swearing it had “ _ tried to squeeze her to death!”  _

 

But, the worst part, for Harley at least, was Polly calming down from her hysterics enough to say, “Harley was talking to it, weren’t you Harley?”

 

Uncle Vernon waited until Polly was safely out of the house before starting on Harley. He was so  _ enraged  _ that when he spoke his voice was soft, when Vernon got angry he usually got loud. She knew this was going to be bad.

 

“Go to your cupboard now. You will have no dinner, until I feel you have done enough to deserve that  _ privilege.  _ You will see me later on for your punishment.” 

 

Then he collapsed into his favourite armchair, Aunt Petunia rushed to get him a large scotch.  _ (Please no, god, it was always worse when he was drunk. Breathe tinged with alcohol, hands rough and uncoordinated. He usually shoved her mouth onto him then, he couldn’t get it up without it.) _

 

Harley was shaking.

 

She lay in her rapidly darkening cupboard much later, wishing she had a watch. She didn’t know what time it was, it was kind of a useless piece of knowledge but she still wanted to know. Was what happened today her fault? 

 

She heard footsteps on the stairs above her, her door creaked open. She was shaking. An iron grip came down on her wrist, and pulled her from her safe hole and into the darkness of the night.

 

_ (No. No. Stop please! I didn’t do it on purpose, I swear! Please, please, please, please. I swear I won’t do it again! Please, please! No! NO! _

 

_ A meaty hand over her mouth, a silencing.  _

 

_ Please, please, please, please. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Sobbing, groans. She feels as though she is not in her body anymore. Grunting. She must block it out to survive, she has to. _

 

_ Please, no. Please, please, please. Stop, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please.) _

 

It was hours later, that battered and violated and bruised and  _ aching _ , she was shoved back into her cupboard. 

 

And so she slept, waiting for another miserable day.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hello sorry for the wee break -- i have no capacity for a writing schedule,,,,, so here's this short wee chapter while we wait for a rather important piece of mail

It was morning, early. So early, in fact, that Aunt Petunia had not come to wake her yet. When punishments this bad occurred, she was usually given an extra hour of rest. Her only reprieve.

 

It was early, and Harley was sitting in her cupboard, bruises aching, and thinking.

 

Books were… important to Harley. 

 

They were her escape from the cruelty of reality - the sharpness of existence. In books, people could have happy lives, sad lives, lives that were morally grey, lives untouched by pain. She could learn things from books, from the lives of others. Their thoughts helped shape her world, and allowed her to learn that through hardship could come strength - that she wouldn't have to live this forever. Freedom was possible, she could get there, one day. Be free. 

 

She could learn anything, if only she could get her hands on the right book. Although she had to keep her grades lower than Delia's, Harley _loved_ to learn. 

 

For Harley, knowledge was power. Sometimes she could talk her way out of situations if she was very clever, and maybe that was an act of defiance in itself. She could lie until she was blue in the face and still make it natural at this point, but god, in this household did she need that ability. 

 

Amidst the brutality of her _punishment_ , (she almost spat the word, acid on her tongue, poison in her mouth, acerbic,) she had almost forgotten her hypothesis; magic. 

 

It was something to… take into consideration, after all, she was her own main character, maybe magic was what she would get from all this suffering. It would make sense, in a storybook sort of way. In all the fantasy she could get her hands on, the main character was _special_ in some way. Maybe her speciality was magic. 

 

How could she test it? Maybe, it was to do with willpower? Concentration is key?

 

“Up! Up now! You’ve got to go get the mail!”

 

Harley _ached,_ but getting the mail was peaceful in the morning, and more of an excuse to evade Vernon’s eyes. So she rose quickly. She wondered what mail would be waiting for her collection today.

 

“Of course, Aunt Petunia! I’ll be right out!”

 

Aunt Petunia, of course, did not reply. Why would Harley be deserving of that, after all? Her footsteps tap tap tapped away.  


Harley dressed quickly, she would ask to take one of her two weekly showers tonight. The hand-me-downs hung off of her frame as she slipped out of her cupboard, closing the door quietly behind her. 

 

“What are you doing slinking around oh so quietly?”

 

The sudden noise was jarring, as was the sudden presence in her personal space bubble. Harley flinched, she recognised that voice. She thought she would recognise it anywhere now.

 

“Nothing, sir! I’m just going to get the mail, like Aunt Petunia asked! I didn’t want to bother anyone with my noises.” 

 

Harley hung her head, and folded in on herself. As if making herself a smaller target would make him target her any less, as if it would make her more forgettable. _As if, as if._

 

Vernon hummed, an ominous sound, almost like a radar searching for any flaws in her statement, any cracks in her shield. 

 

“Better get on with it then, girl. Petunia doesn't need to be in the kitchen at this time in the morning.”

 

Harley could have almost smiled in relief. 

 

“Yes, sir, of course.”

 

She didn't want to test her luck, so she scurried off. There was mail to collect after all. 


End file.
